


Being Left

by plumandfinch



Category: Call the Midwife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumandfinch/pseuds/plumandfinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That way, no one will ever lose their mothers.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Left

_“That way, no one will ever lose their mothers.”_

The sharp smell of smoke still clings to her hair, Timothy notes as he buries his face into her shoulder. He had heard the door open and close, finally, and had rushed into the front hall as Dad looked up from where he was tinkering in the kitchen. 

“Oh. Timothy,” she says quietly, “it’s so late, you should be in bed.”

“I just wanted to see you, Mum.”

Her arms tighten around him as he hears Dad pad into the front hallway.

“Tim, why don’t you let your mother into the flat?”

He feels a pinch of irritation as he reluctantly steps back. Mum doesn’t move, though, just looks at him and lays a hand on his cheek.

“Timothy? Are you alright?”

He gives her a small lopsided smile and nods. He picks up her bag and puts it on the table as Mum, in a very un-Mum like way kicks her nurse’s shoes off and drops into one of the chairs.

“Love, I’ve got some eggs and toast for you and tea will be on its way in a minute.” Dad says as he comes around the corner with a plate.  “Tim, would you like something else before bed? Mum’s right, it is really quite late.”

“I’m fine, Dad. I’ll just go to bed now. See you in the morning.”

He turns to pick up the book he discarded when he heard the door and when he turns back, Dad’s wrapped his arms around Mum from above and is pressing his cheek to the top of her head. He sees it, the moment Dad smells the lingering smoke too. The sour feeling returns to his stomach and he turns away before he is asked any more questions.

____

The tea kettle whistles and it’s only then that Patrick untangles his arms and straightens up, leaving another kiss on the top of Shelagh’s head. He sits next to her after fiddling with the tea things and watches her eat in silence. The eggs and toast are demolished and both cups of tea are poured before she leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. His hand finds hers and they sit in the quiet.

“Can I get you anything else to eat?”

She sighs and blinks her endless blue eyes open. “No, I’m fine, thank you dearest.”

His thumb draws slow circles on the back of her hand and they watch each other until a yawn catches her unawares. “Goodness, I haven’t felt this tired since nursing school!”, she chuckles.

He squeezes her hand before reluctantly letting go, “Then it’s straight to bed for you, Mrs. Turner.”

___

Mum is right, it is late, much later than he usually stays up, even with Angela in the house, but he can’t sleep. He kicks the covers, rolling to his other side.

It was Mr. Ashton in the sweet shop who told him about it. “Heard about that fire, Master Turner; so glad that no one was hurt. My Claire said that your mother got them all out of there lickety-split.” Timothy hadn’t even noticed Mr. Ashton slipping an extra piece of licorice into the bag. He was out the door and running towards the maternity home before he realized he was moving.

There had been nothing to see, of course, Mum was already at Nonnatus with all the mothers and babies and Dad had just left for home which was where Timothy found him after thundering down the lane and breathlessly flying through the door.

“Everyone is fine.” Dad had assured him. “I saw Mum myself, just after it happened. She’ll be home later.”

Timothy tosses himself around again, unsettling the duvet. He is busy trying to kick it back down over his feet when he hears the small sound of his door opening.

“Timmy? Are you awake?”

He sits up as she comes in. “Sorry, Mum. I’m having trouble falling asleep.”

He wriggles over and the bed creaks slightly as she sits next to him.

“You looked so worried in the hallway before, is everything alright?”

He finds that he can’t answer her right away. His stomach tightens as he thinks about telling her. It’s when she gently brushes the flop of hair off of his forehead that the words leap out of his mouth.

“I was scared that you were hurt today. Dad said you weren’t, that you were fine but it still scares me”

She is quiet, “Are you still scared now?”

It is a relief, he is surprised to find, to say it. “Yes.”

“Oh Timothy, dearest. I’m so sorry to have scared you. I was scared myself, for a moment. But then we started to get everyone out and sorted and I saw your father and I felt better.”

“I thought I would feel better when you came home, but I still- it’s just- I can’t sleep.” He’s holding his breath now. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t even begin the sentence, let slip the real thing that is making his stomach lurch. The thought of her leaving. Of being left again.

As if she knows anyway, she nods, “Why don’t I stay until you fall asleep?”

She gets up to right the tangle of sheets and covers and his eyes are closed even before she settles back down beside him.

__

Patrick finds them when he quietly opens the door to Tim’s room. Both sound asleep, leaning against one another in the dark.


End file.
